Reaction!
by Channel D
Summary: Abby steps in to help her friend, Ziva, when the latter is ordered to take a psychological test under less-than-favorable conditions. Watch out! Humor, one-shot.


**Reaction!**

**by channeld**

_written for_: fun  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>featuring<em>: Abby, mostly, and Ziva  
><em>genre<em>: humor

_author's note_: The idea for this came from an episode of _Flashpoint_ in which the team members had to undergo psychological evaluations by a specialist who was a terror in administering same. I decided to develop the idea for NCIS…with Abby, who can take on anyone.

_disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

* * *

><p>When Abby passed by her at the squad room windows, Ziva appeared to be morose. Abby touched her arm. "Why so glum, chum?" she asked.<p>

Ziva made a face, "It is this psychological test that I must take. It is being given to all agents who are not Americans by birth. Do not ask me why. Normally, I would follow orders and not object, but our team has been on stakeouts for the last three nights, and I am so tired, I will not be at my best on the test."

"Can't you reschedule it?"

"No. The psychologist—his name is Dr. Soupenspoon—works in New York, and is only in DC for a few days."

"Well, I'm sure you'll do fine. How difficult can it be?"

"I have heard that the man is very tough. He likes to try to break people." Ziva took a deep breath. "At other times, I would welcome such a challenge, a combat, but…not today. If I do not pass, then…my job might be at risk."

Abby frowned. "And he's only doing this to _naturalized_ Americans? That's shabby. You just tell him that you'll take the test the next time he's in town."

"I wish I could do that. He is not being flexible, though." She fanned herself. "I shall have a long drink of cool water before I go up to see him in fifteen minutes." Then Gibbs called to her and she gave a parting nod to Abby.

_Well, this is a revolting development!_ Abby thought. _I'm tempted to go this this Doctor…whatzisname…a piece of my mind._

But she had work to do, she knew. When she got in the elevator, though, she found herself passing over the _down_ button in favor of the _up_ button…and the third floor conference rooms.

* * *

><p>Abby entered the small room with plush chairs. This was a room used to impress people. The door closed with a quiet <em>whink <em>behind her. The only person in the room was a balding man of about 60, who wore an expensive suit that didn't flatter his prominent gut. He gave her a crooked smile. "Come in, come in. Be seated."

"What? I'm sorry, Dr…Soupandcrackers. I just wanted to—"  
><strong><br>**"It's _Soupenspoon. _Yes, yes; you all say you're so busy. Well, so am I, so let's get started. I already have some information on you here." He opened a manila folder, a sour look on his face.

"Oh! You think I'm—"

"You're Agent Ziva David, immigrant from Israel."

A thought occurred to Abby, in the middle of her indignation on behalf of her friend, and she put on a big smile. "Why, yes," she said. "Yes, I am."

"You've polished off whatever accent you had."

"Just a matter of working at it," Abby said, dimpling.

"Yes, whatever." He turned over pages in the file. "I'm going to ask you to tell me the first thing that comes into your mind when I utter a word or phrase. Do you understand?"

"Comprehension."

He looked startled. "No, I haven't started yet."

"Unfinished!"

He cleared his throat. "Gargling," she said.

Giving her a look, he began again. "This is the first word: _Citizen_."

"Hear my proclamation, subjects!"

"I'll try again…"

"Persistent."

He frowned at her, "Now, I'm _really_ starting," he said patiently.

"And I'm off! Look at me go!"

The doctor looked at her, scribbled a note, and then appeared to be thinking of a new tactic. "Israel."

"Hot, this time of year. Or any time of year."

"Desert."

"Cherry pie."

"No, no; not 'dessert'!"

"Too many calories! I'm trying to lose weight!"

This time he gave her _two _looks—one, followed by another—before continuing. "Agent."

"Reagent."

"Huh?"

"Query."

"No, no, no."

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Stop a minute."

"Momentary halt."

"Um..."

"Delaying tactic."

He shuffled the papers in the folder. "Mossad."

"Organization. Not like one of those you can just walk in off the street and join, though. Like a gym. A little more exclusive."

"Director."

"Movie."

"Father."

"Priest."

He took off his glasses. "Odd response from a Jewish person."

She beamed. " 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 39 days since-' "

"That's not what I meant!"

"Ginormous misunderstanding!"

He gave her a long, long look. She just sat with a serene smile, her hands folded on the conference table.

"Assassin."

"Bad," she said without thinking, and immediately regretted it, although she kept her face composed.

"You think that's bad?"

"Judgment call." She was smiling again.

"Assassin," he tried once more.

"Intrigue," she said this time.

"Intrigue?"

"Echo."

"Violence."

"Musical instruments."

"Violence, in real life," he said, saying each word clearly.

"Orchestra, string section, public concert."

He was starting to look defeated. "Gun shots."

"Crime TV."

"Aha!"

"Discovery!"

"No, Agent David—"

"Alas, I am no more," Abby said, looking sorrowful.

"Let me try again…"

"I rise from the ashes, like a phoenix!"

"Look, I'm in charge here—!"

"At last, I have my own team!" Abby's fist pumped the air.

"Will you try to stay on the subject?"

It took Abby a fraction of a second to come up with a retort. "My knee will stay on the suspect's throat, sir!"

"Not _suspect_; _subject_!"

"Word confusion. My bad. English my first language, is not!" Even to her ears that sounded more like Yoda than Hebrew, but she hoped the shrink wouldn't notice.

"Weapons."

"Fun!"

"Killing."

"Messy."

"Duty."

"Annoying tax on importing certain things."

"Loyalty."

"Team."

"Country."

"Picnic. With ants."

He sighed. "All right, I think that's enough."

"I am full. No second helping for me, thanks!"

"We're done here."

"Mission accomplished!"

"Agent David…"

"Image I see in the mirror!"

"Okay; you can go now."

"No more questions at this time, suspect, but don't leave the area."

"I think I'll be going."

"My future lies in me leaving this room."

"Goodbye."

"Acknowledgement of parting."

"You can stop now."

"Halt in mid-stride. Are we playing _Statues_?"

"I am leaving the building."

"I should notify Gibbs if I'm going out."

He started to edge out of the room. "I'm really going, I mean it."

"I can always phone Gibbs on the way." She went after him.

"Please don't follow me!"

"Request considered; will keep a discrete distance!"

"No! Let me go! _Hold that elevator!"_ He ran for it, jumping in as the doors were closing.

"Ooo, that's a tough one, Dr. Soupandsalad!" She called after him. "I'll have to get back to you on that!"

Ziva was just coming up the stairs. "Was that Dr. Soupenspoon in that elevator? Where is he going? I am late, I know, but only by five minutes…"

"He had to go back to New York, I think," Abby said with a slight shake of her head. "Poor man; he looked worn out."

"His job must not be easy," said Ziva. "It is just as well. I think he would have found me a dull subject."

"You are _never_ dull, Ziva," Abby said, giving her a big hug. "You would liven up anyone's day."

* * *

><p><em>Three days later…<em>

Leon Vance frowned at the annoyance of having to make the phone call. As he usually did with calls that annoyed him, he put the phone on speaker so his hands would be free. "Dr. Soupenspoon, this is Leon Vance. I'm waiting for your report on Ziva David. You've sent reports on all of the agents but her."

There was a slight hesitation on the other end; an intake of breath. _"Ah…I am still writing it up. It was…hard to summarize."_

"You're talking about one of my top agents, you know. I have no question about either her loyalty or her mental stability."

"_Ah…yes. She is…fine. Fine. Loyal and stable. Do I really have to write you a report? Can I just tell you on the phone that she is loyal and…stable?"_ There was a pleading note in his voice. _"I am not a well man."_

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it something sudden?"

"_Yes…as of about three days ago. I'll only charge you half the regular cost if you don't insist on a written report."_

Vance rolled his eyes. He hadn't wanted this silly study anyway. "Fine. Done. Send the invoice." He hung up.

Should he call in David and ask what had gone on?

He decided he didn't really want to know.

-END-


End file.
